


A Small Deliverance

by pr0nz69



Category: Fire Emblem Heroes, Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses, Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates
Genre: Archery, Bandits & Outlaws, Chivalry, Dark Past, Developing Friendships, First Meetings, Flirting, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-05
Updated: 2020-04-05
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:49:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23501872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pr0nz69/pseuds/pr0nz69
Summary: “I thought I smelled blood.” The man cracks a grin as he kneels beside Ashe, entirely too close. He takes his injured arm into calloused hands—the hands of an archer who’d evidently seen more real combat than his youthful aspect would suggest. “That must hurt quite a lot, hm?”Ashe squirms. “Oh—no, I’m fine, really—”The man ignores him, swiping a finger up the line of blood on his arm and then, to his mortification, placing it in his own mouth and sucking it clean. “Don’t worry.” He sticks the finger next under Ashe’s chin, lifting his head so that their eyes meet. “It would be my pleasure to take care of a pretty scrap like you.”———In which a roguish flirt and a chivalrous knight-in-training meet—and realize they have more in common than they might have thought.
Kudos: 41





	A Small Deliverance

**Author's Note:**

> Here's my piece from _Together We Ride_ Volume 6, the Fire Emblem anthology fanzine! I love writing both of these boys! <3

The sun has faded to a milky smudge on the horizon, the sky above it too blue-black to light the targets at the treeline. Ashe draws back his bowstring anyway, trying to make out the red and white circles through glassy eyes. He makes an estimate of their location that probably isn’t very accurate at all and releases the arrow.

The string snaps. He leaps back. Did he overdraw? Sloppy. He sets the bow down and touches his forearm. Blood.

“Oh no,” he sighs.

The other archers left the training grounds hours ago. His Highness and even Prince Alfonse appealed to him to retire at various points throughout the evening, but he wouldn’t—not when he’s so far behind even the other rookies in the Order of Heroes. He sighs again, plopping down in the grass to watch the final flares of the sun before it’s washed away entirely by the darkness of nightfall.

“My, my, what’s a delectable morsel like you doing out here all by his lonesome?”

Alarmed, Ashe sits up. “H-hello,” he stammers.

The man sauntering across the lawn toward him is lithe like a cat and grins like one, too. His eye is narrowed, watchful—a predator sighting prey. Ashe recognizes him from the day’s training; he’d marveled from a distance at the precision of the archer with only one eye.

“I thought I smelled blood.” The man cracks a grin as he kneels beside Ashe, entirely too close. He takes his injured arm into calloused hands—the hands of an archer who’d evidently seen more real combat than his youthful aspect would suggest. “That must hurt quite a lot, hm?”

Ashe squirms. “Oh—no, I’m fine, really—”

The man ignores him, swiping a finger up the line of blood on his arm and then, to his mortification, placing it in his own mouth and sucking it clean. “Don’t worry.” He sticks the finger next under Ashe’s chin, lifting his head so that their eyes meet. “It would be my pleasure to take care of a pretty scrap like you.”

Ashe blushes, pulling away. “Please, there’s really no need for that!”

The man chuckles. “Oh, I beg your pardon. Lord Leo would give me quite the tongue-lashing were he to catch me flirting again. He’s rather prudish, you see, but I suppose that’s just one of the reasons why I so admire him.”

“Lord Leo,” Ashe repeats, grasping for a distraction. “From the way you speak of him, he must be your—“

“My master,” the man says with an air of pride. “But—ah—do forgive me for neglecting to introduce myself. I am Niles. I serve Prince Leo of Nohr. Might I have the pleasure of knowing your name, sweet bird?”

Ashe pointedly ignores the endearment. “It’s Ashe. I’m a... Well, I’m just a student right now. But one day, I hope to serve His Highness, Prince Dimitri, as a knight of the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus.”

“My, how gallant!”

Ashe perks up a little. “You think so, too?”

Niles hums his agreement. “Of course. But let’s not let those noble aspirations of yours die to an injured bow-arm! You would, after all, look _much_ cuter with love-bites!”

Ashe feels his face grow hot. He stands, hastily brushing himself off. “N-no, please, don’t trouble yourself on my account.” He stoops to retrieve his bow and quiver. “Thank you for your concern, but I really must be going.”

As he stumbles up the lawn, he hears Niles remark after him, “Oh, the bird is flying solo. How precious.”

Perhaps it was foolhardy to return to the castle unarmed, unescorted—and slightly lost. Ashe walks briskly, keeping to the partially overgrown path that wends through dusky woods, wary of every gust of wind and rustle of leaves. He wonders if there are ghosts in Askr and quickens his pace.

A twig snaps, startlingly close. He reaches for his bow, remembering its broken string too late—and is quickly disarmed and restrained by a thick pair of arms.

“Well, well. Looks like a little mouse has wandered into a nest of hawks.”

Ashe jerks his head around. A man with a raptor emblazoned on his neck emerges from the trees, twirling an arrow between his fingers. Four other men follow behind him, lazily brandishing their weapons.

“No one treads this path anymore. You spying on us, boy?” the tattooed man asks.

“No,” Ashe says.

“Oh? Then were you on your way to the princey’s big, cushy castle?” The man jerks his head in the direction of it. “We were just heading up that way ourselves, weren’t we, boys?”

A rumble of assent issues from the other men.

“From the way you’re dressed, you’re not from around here, which means you’re one of His Royal Princeliness’s ‘Heroes’. Don’t suppose you could show us around your fancy home, eh? Particularly where you keep all the shiny bits?”

Ashe remains silent.

“Oi. The boss asked you a question!”

Ashe grunts as the big man holding him slaps the back of his head.

“You’re a bowman, yeah?” The tattooed man kicks Ashe’s discarded bow. “Want to stand for some target practice? It’s been some time since I’ve practiced my gap-shooting on a live target.”

“I... I’ll do you one better,” Ashe manages, clenching his teeth to keep them from chattering. “I’m a skilled lockpick. I’ve studied all the locks in the castle—I can get you into any room or vault you like.”

It isn’t entirely a lie, though these days, he only picks the locks of doors or their enemies’ war chests. He has no inkling at all as to the mechanism of Askr’s locks.

The tattooed man laughs. “That’s cute, kid. But we’re thieves, not fools.” He nods to the big man. “Tie him to that tree there. I’ll stick ‘im right in the eye from a hundred paces off!”

Ashe resists the man’s attempt to move him. “Wait!” he cries. “I’ll prove it! Give me a lock and a pick—I’ll show you what I can do!”

The tattooed man considers that for a moment. “I suppose there’s no harm in it,” he concedes. He jabs his finger in the direction of one of his men. “You heard the boy—get him what he asked for from my effects! You know the one.”

As that man scurries off to obey, the big man relinquishes his hold, and Ashe droops forward, rubbing his shoulders. If he can’t manage to pick this lock, that’s it. He curses his stupidity; he should have turned in long before the sun set.

The man returns with a small lockbox and a rusted steel pick, both of which Ashe takes into trembling hands. All eyes are on him as he slides the pick into the keyhole, maneuvering around the pins and waiting for the tiny click that may well save his life.

“The boy’s got technique, at least,” the tattooed man muses. “Maybe he wasn’t bluffing after all.”

The click comes after several minutes pass unbearably slowly, and Ashe hands the box and pick back, palms sweaty. The tattooed man whistles.

“Alright, kid, you showed me, picking my own lockbox. Who’d’ve thought a little mouse like you’d be so damn quick with his paws?” He hands off the lockbox and pick, then turns to address the others. “This little mouse is going to be padding you boys’ pockets for quite a while, so make sure you treat him real nice and gentle.”

The big man grabs hold of Ashe again, far from gentle, but before he can force him forward, an arrow streaks through the air, nearly clipping Ashe’s ear before embedding itself in the tree just beside the tattooed man’s face. The big man leaps back in surprise, and Ashe takes the opportunity to twist out of his grasp.

“Unless you wish to be hunted down like filthy pigeons,” Niles says, nocking another arrow as he steps out from between the trees, “then I suggest you leave the mouse with me.”

The tattooed man growls, nocking his own arrow, but Niles is faster; he releases the bowstring, striking the man clean in the shoulder.

“Damn it,” he hisses, staggering back. “Who is this bastard? No—it ain’t worth the trouble. C’mon—scatter!”

“Wait!” Ashe cries as the men flee into the forest. Niles holds him back.

“Let’s not. You’re unarmed, after all.”

Ashe rounds on him. “Were you watching the whole time?”

Niles grins. “Oh, yes. I must admit, I didn’t expect a little bird like you to turn out to be a thieving magpie. Color me intrigued.”

“Enough with the nicknames already,” Ashe says in exasperation. “I’ve heard enough of those tonight. And look, it’s not a part of my past that I’m proud of. Thievery is wrong—and unbecoming of a knight, I know.”

But rather than tease him, Niles merely shrugs his shoulders. “You do what you must to survive. Dirty work. Shameful work. That, at least, I understand well.”

Ashe frowns. “Don’t tell me—were you also—”

“Heh. Guilty as charged.”

“But now you serve a prince...” Ashe hesitates. “Excuse me for being blunt, but why such a drastic change?”

“Oh, it’s nothing so dramatic as you’re thinking. Once, Lord Leo caught a filthy, thieving rat in the palace, and rather than drown him, he chose to save him.”

“You’re talking about yourself,” Ashe says slowly. “So Lord Leo caught you stealing… and he saved you?”

“I had nothing. Lord Leo gave me what I’d never hoped to have—a home, a purpose, and so much _delicious_ affection, though he’s loath to admit it.” Niles smirks. “Since that day, I have devoted myself to his service. He is my everything.”

Ashe is quiet for a while. “That is remarkably similar to my own story,” he says at last. “When I was a boy, my parents passed away quite suddenly. I was left to care for my younger siblings. I did honest work whenever I could, of course, but—well, as you’ve figured out, it was never enough. And so I resorted to thievery—and was eventually caught in the act. The house I broke in to belonged to the man who would eventually become my adoptive father—Lonato. He could have turned me over to the city guard—and he would have had every right to. But he didn’t. He showed me mercy that night. He took me in, my brother and sister, too, and somehow—somehow, we became a family. He treated me like he treated his own son—and his son treated me like a younger brother. They loved me dearly, and I, them.”

His eyes start to well with tears, and he turns away, blinking into the darkness of the forest. “Lonato saved me, truly. And yet I... I...” His voice hitches. “They’re both dead now,” he says once he collects himself. “Executed for crimes against the church. I saw Lonato die. I was in the group sent to punish him. I…” He trails off.

For once, Niles has no witty remark for him. Ashe laughs awkwardly to break up the silence. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I’m telling you this.”

Niles shrugs. “I’ve heard worse sob stories.”

Ashe smiles dryly. “Thanks.”

“But I am not the man to judge you for it. Whatever your reasons, and whatever your lord’s, you both had your justifications—and your misgivings, I imagine. Moral conundrums are a tricky thing—which is why a coward like me only takes orders from his lord without question. But that cute face of yours is hiding tougher stuff than I expected, and I must admit that I’m rather taken with it.”

Ashe flushes. “I don’t know about that,” he says. “But… thank you. For cheering me up. And for saving me, too.”

“You gave me a chance to be the gallant knight for once,” Niles says. “I should be thanking you! But next time, won’t _you_ swoop in to rescue _me_ , Sir Knight?”

Next time, Ashe thinks. Next time, he’ll be strong enough to protect someone.

He has to be.


End file.
